


Star Trek AOS Prompts

by Jaye_Voy



Series: Prompt Ficlets [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Adult Content, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Prompt Fic, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaye_Voy/pseuds/Jaye_Voy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some prompt fills that were done for characters in the Star Trek reboot movies.<br/>Prompts are as follows:<br/>1. Spock and McCoy, horses<br/>2. A story about Sulu<br/>3. Chekov, aftermath of rape<br/>4. Scotty/McCoy, first move<br/>5. Pike/Gaila, wheelchair sex<br/>6. Spock/McCoy, hand sex<br/>7. Scotty/McCoy, shirtless<br/>8. Spock/McCoy, lost in the wilderness<br/>9. McCoy/Author's choice, Kirk cheats on McCoy and McCoy moves on<br/>10. Spock/McCoy/Uhura AU scene</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Equine Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2009/2010. Although there are some tweaks, the story's contents (and its flaws) are mostly intact.  
> Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property of Gene Roddenberry as re-envisioned by JJ Abrams. No infringement is intended or profit made. Although most of the ficlets are PG-13 for adult themes and strong language, two are NC-17 for sex.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Spock & McCoy, horses

"Well, Mr. Spock, there's no mistakin' you for a tenderfoot." Doctor McCoy's eyes seemed to twinkle more gold than green as they traveled once more over Spock. They surveyed his attire from the wide-brimmed hat to bolo tie, over Spock's snap-fastened denim shirt and "jeans" to newly replicated boots.

Spock raised one eyebrow as he shifted. His feet were, in fact, somewhat pinched by the odd footwear, the tips of which came to a point instead of the more logical rounded shape that allowed ample room in the toebox.

The doctor, by contrast, seemed quite comfortable as he slouched against the doorway to the stables. McCoy's own clothing showed wear in pale patches at knees and elbows, and general lack of crispness. The man's stance was relaxed, his expression eager as he lifted one long-fingered hand to beckon Spock closer. "C'mon, I wanna introduce you to the gals before we saddle up." 

Spock suppressed a sigh and moved to follow. He pondered the probability of the Enterprise encountering 1) such an Earth-like planet, 2) with friendly native peoples, and 3) who had a culture remarkably like Earth's Old West. The odds were long; unfortunately, that did not preclude the planet's existence. Thus Spock was being introduced to the equine mode of transportation by the doctor, who had apparently spent his youth riding and tending such creatures.

The abrupt change in the level of illumination had Spock's pupils dilating as he stepped into the structure. Rows of straw-filled boxes were secured with bisected doors, the upper halves of which were open to the aisle. Curious horses had their long necks stretched toward Spock or the doctor, who was standing before a pair of stalls holding two of the quadriped creatures. Both were the brown of the planet's mud, with lustrous black eyes half-closed. McCoy was *crooning* to the animals, one hand upon each, scratching beneath the locks of coarse hair that fell between the pointed ears onto sloping foreheads.

"Aren't they great?" McCoy's voice kept its soothing timbre as he glanced back at Spock.

Spock approached with caution, noting the horses' large teeth and extensive reach. And that the leather of their headgear did nothing to prevent use of said teeth. "I have no standard for comparison, Doctor."

McCoy's snort was not unlike the animals'. "Well, take my word for it, these are two fine ladies." He dropped his hands and turned to Spock. One of the creatures made a low sound and shoved its nose into McCoy's back.

With some strength, it seemed, as Spock suddenly found himself with an armful of startled doctor. Spock could not help note how the doctor's spicy scent blended well with the odors of hay and horseflesh. He set the doctor upright and dropped his own arms to his sides. The reluctance inherent in the gesture was something he preferred to disregard. "I will note your assessment, Doctor. May we proceed?"

Despite the relative dimness of the building's interior, Spock could see the faint flush of redness on McCoy's cheeks. The man cleared his throat and said, "No time like the present."

He turned back toward the horses, but didn't approach again. "First thing to remember, Mr. Spock, is that it's always better to approach horses from the side. Notice that they have side-set eyes. You come at 'em straight on, you could find yourself with an armful of teeth." McCoy moved slightly to the right and slowly moved toward the leftmost animal. The creature stretched its head forth again, nostrils widening. McCoy smiled and petted the brown muzzle. "This here's Mistra, the other's Kilin."

McCoy looked over at Spock, smile still in place. It quite altered the doctor's features. "Hold your hand out, palm up, and let 'em give you a sniff. Just watch the fingers---I don't know how much they look like this planet's version of carrots."

Spock did as instructed, cautiously lifting his hand to first one horse, then the other. He could feel warm breaths on his skin from the creatures, the brush of longer hairs on the animals' chins. After both animals had finished their inspection, he laid a hand on Mistra's cheek. The flesh even warmer than his home, the rough coat tingling against his palm. Without thought he curled his fingers slightly and scratched at the spot where head met long neck.

The animal laid its head on Spock's shoulder and closed its eyes with a shuddering breath.

"Looks like you're a natural," McCoy whispered, his breath grazing Spock's ear. "Ready for the next step?"

Spock nodded and ceased his stroking of the horse. McCoy brushed past him, slipping a hand into Mistra's headgear. "I checked with the stable owner. She said it's OK for us to double on this gal for your first time."

McCoy unfastened the latch and swung open the door, leading the horse into the aisle.

Spock shifted in surprise when Kilin stamped one hoof and shook her head, dark mane flopping.

McCoy laughed. "Don't worry, darlin', we'll be back for you in two shakes." He looked at Spock. "Ready?"

Spock nodded, though the assent was provisional. He was, in fact, uncertain of what came next.

"We're gonna go bareback first, so you can get a sense of how the horse moves and responds." McCoy led Mistra out into the sunlight, into an enclosure filled with close-cropped grass. Spock closed the gate and stood beside McCoy, who had paused at the inner edge of the wooden fence. "Let's get you mounted up."

Spock raised his brows as he perused the broad back of the animal, which was quite some distance from the ground. "Please explain this procedure."

McCoy lifted one boot to the lowest railing. "You climb the fence, and use that to swing aboard." He gave Spock a nudge. "Don't worry, Mistra's too much a lady to send ya back-side into the dirt, right gal?"

Spock found the animal's nicker dubious assurance at best, but dutifully scaled the fence. He found he had to stretch his legs farther than expected to span the animal, but sooner than expected found himself upon the horse.

The distance from the ground seemed greater, from this perspective. Mistra shifted, and Spock found his fingers tightly gripping the horse's mane. He was certain there was equipment missing for this endeavor. "I do not believe you have provided sufficient means of controlling this animal, Doctor." He did not mention the unaccustomed strain to several muscles of his pelvis and legs.

"Hold your horses---I mean horse." McCoy clambered up the fence.

The next moment, Spock found his waist encircled by McCoy's arms. McCoy's legs, as well, were in close contact, knees resting lightly against the hollows of his own. If Spock slid back a few centimeters he would likewise be able to feel the doctor's powerful thighs.

Spock did not think he should be tempted by such a possibility.

Yet Spock found the sensation of sitting astride the horse with McCoy...not unpleasant. McCoy cleared his throat again, and his voice seemed somewhat rougher than usual. "Now I want you to keep track of how Mistra responds to me. She's trained for voice and legs, as well as reins, and this way you'll get to bond, horse and rider."

Spock shivered at the sudden puff of breath against one ear as McCoy murmured, "After all, riding should be a pleasure, hmmm?"

As Mistra moved beneath them and McCoy seemed to slip closer around him, Spock could not disagree.

THE END


	2. When Sulu Met Gertrude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A story about Sulu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gertrude is---I think---the name of the sentient plant from the Star Trek TOS episode "Enemy Within".

The indoor garden was a botanist's dream. Sulu's eyes darted back and forth, exploring the varieties of flora on display. Some of them he'd never seen before---never even read about.

But one of these plants would be his for the asking. A gift from the owner of the conservatory in appreciation of such an enthusiastic visitor.

Sulu didn't stroll, or amble. That would have been too much of a rush. He crept slowly along the almost-hidden paths. The bright greens of a hundred shades were splashed here and there with a vivid rainbow of different colors. The leaves whispered to each other in the soft push of air from the ventilators, and the subtle drip of water through the irrigation systems added a strange kind of music.

He jumped a meter high when something grabbed his calf. Grabbed it.

He caught a flash of pink as he landed in a turn that put him face-to----well, actually knee-to-flower with his grabby new friend.

"Well, well, aren't you a beauty," he murmured as he sank into a crouch. The plant was about two-thirds of a meter high, a succulent with long triangular leaves surrounding a showy pink flower.

The thing bobbed at his words. Sulu's brows rose as he asked himself if the plant had just nodded to him. "Did you understand what I just said?"

The plant nodded again.

Sulu's eyes narrowed. It could be just an instinctive reaction to his own speech or movement. Who'd ever heard of a sentient plant? "You know, grabbing somebody's leg isn't the most polite way of introducing yourself."

The plant weaved from side to side, then ducked its main stem. He'd swear the flower got redder. "Huh."

A soft whine sounded. Sulu looked around for some animal, but nothing else seemed to be sharing the room with him. Just plants.

The sound came again and the flower ducked even lower. Without even realizing it, Sulu reached forward to stroke the dark green leaves. "Hey, it's all right. You just surprised me, that's all."

The plant straightened again. Sulu couldn't believe the rush of relief. He lifted his hand to brush a careful fingertip over one blushing petal. "You're amazing."

The flower seemed to be moving under his touch like a cat arching for attention. "Say, you wanna go home with me?" Sulu could already picture this special plant as the crown jewel of Enterprise's budding arboretum. He spent his off hours there, chasing his love of botanical knowledge when he wasn't chasing the stars in the pilot's seat.

While he'd enjoy having the plant in his quarters, he didn't think such isolation would be fair to the lady. (He didn't know how he knew the plant was female, he just did.) No, she needed company. Somehow he knew that, too.

The plant bobbed again and pushed into him, nuzzling him as he continued to stroke its leaves and whisper promises of tender loving care.

"Looks like you and Gertrude have found each other." The voice of the conservatory's owner sounded warm and amused.

Sulu turned and saw the alien's expression was much the same, but also a bit wistful. He nodded. "Yeah, that is---if that's OK?" He tensed, the sudden thought of losing Gertrude more painful than the prick of thorns.

"It must be. These plants call to the hearts of those that will claim them." The alien reached out a delicate fingertip to the plant. It allowed a single stroke of its leaves before burrowing back against Sulu. "Gertrude has waited a long time for you. You must promise to take good care of her, always."

Sulu felt one of the leaves slide against his palm and curled his finger around it, making a silent promise to a very special lady.


	3. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chekov Hurt/Comfort, aftermath of rape

Chekov could not stop shaking. His whole body oscillated, short ripples that he could plot out on a graph in his head, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

If he cataloged the details, he need not think about...the incident.

He lay face-down in a private examination room in Sickbay. On a biobed set to medium firmness (6.5 to 7 in a log -10 scale), approximately 2.5 meters in length and 1.5 in width. The height was 1.30 meters from the floor.

He stared at the floor while Doctor McCoy used his machines on...the floor was composed of broad white tiles. There was an average of 5.3 variations in each square of white.

Imperfections...no longer pure white surfaces, but stained with---he remembered the drops of blood on the bar's washroom floor as the man pulled out---

Chekov breathed in, clenched, focused. There were approximately 7 storage cabinets surrounding the sink unit in his view, the ratio of small, medium, and large was---

"OK, kid, I'm done with the major repairs and got the evidence kit filled." Doctor McCoy moved into Chekov's sight and Chekov suddenly noticed his lower half was covered by a drape. And that the pain in his nether regions had been reduced 85 percent.

The doctor's eyes were a somber brown today. The shade appeared in 40.5 percent of Chekov's observances of McCoy, 70 percent of that subset occurring here in Sickbay. Chekov focused on McCoy's voice.

"Why don'tcha hit the shower before I finish patchin' you up, huh?" McCoy said with a shrug.

Doctor McCoy's hand came 6 centimeters closer, stopped 3.5 centimeters from Chekov's shoulder. But 2.5 when Chekov's trembling was at its apex in the other direction. He nodded and slid from the biobed, clutching the drape around his nakedness.

The man had held him down while stripping him, grinning as he said, "Gotta see all of you, pretty boy..."

Chekov walked 57.8 percent faster than normal. 

***

Chekov couldn't approximate the change in his status or explain why it was so, but he did feel better after washing. Cleansing himself under water 8 degrees hotter than his usual setting, scrubbing approximately double the time he would normally spend.

He stepped back into the room, in sleep pants he found in the washroom beneath the towels. Doctor McCoy was staring at the tray of instruments. The 15.5 by 9.5 centimeters of bare space suggested the evidence kit had been removed.

The 6 steps from washroom to biobed seemed tripled, yet Chekov knew the distance was the same as when he entered the bathing facility. Strangely, the biobed seemed higher as well, but had not likely been adjusted in the 20 minutes that had passed since Chekov left the room.

McCoy walked over to the counter, lifted a glass and brought it to Chekov. He handed it over. "I've given you a shot for dehydration, but drink up anyway."

Chekov took the glass and in 5 swallows emptied the contents. He handed the glass back---

He froze when their fingers touched. His eyes locked onto the doctor's. He blurted, "I vas not drunk."

McCoy set the glass on the tray and picked up a cylindrical unit. He began to work on Chekov's face and neck. "I know that, Chekov." The doctor's voice was quieter than usual. "Your preliminary blood work came back clean. No alcohol, no drugs..." He stared at Chekov. "This wasn't your fault."

Chekov bit his lip to keep the words from tumbling out. When he took a breath they escaped anyway. "I vas just there to dance---I like to dance. But the man, he---he locked the door to the vashroom and he moved so fast, so fast and I vas not strong enough to---"

He began blinking as heat filled his eyes and blurred the room. "I vas not strong enough. Too veak, too young---you, the keptin, Sulu---you always tease, call me kid and I vas easy target, yes? Not strong enough to---"

The hands on his shoulders shocked him to silence. When he looked up the doctor's face was...Chekov did not know what the expression was. He had not the words.

But McCoy had words. "Look, Chekov, get this through your head: This wasn't your fault. That bastard was a psycho, needed five guys to take him down. Even Spock couldn't have stopped him alone. You didn't do anything wrong---this wasn't your fault. You were just the unlucky guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

McCoy's mouth had thinned and flattened to near a perfect line. "Shit happens. It happens and you deal with it because you have to. Shit happens no matter how old you are, or how strong you are..." He swallowed. "It happens---it's happened to a lot of us, kid."

Chekov watched McCoy's eyes darken and glisten. Then the doctor was moving forward and Chekov was leaning in and the hands on his shoulders became arms around his back. Chekov pressed his forehead into the doctor's neck, his fingers clutching at the doctor's blue tunic.

He didn't calculate how long they stayed that way. Just let his thoughts drift over the horrible memories and the doctor's words and the sudden shock of knowing he wasn't alone in dealing with the mess that his life had become in the lavatory of a bar on a world he never wanted to visit again.

Chekov was not the only one on Enterprise who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Shit happened. Shit happened and you dealt with it, yes. He would survive because he was old enough and strong enough.

He could do this.

When Chekov finally took a breath and pulled back, he wasn't trembling anymore.


	4. First Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scotty/McCoy

"So...do I even wanna know what happened?" McCoy's eyes twinkled green and gold as he carefully wrapped sterile dressings over the regen gel coating Scotty's hands.

Scotty gave a rueful shrug. "Let's jus' say that if Ensign Greer has a brain in his head, he won' be comin' near my engines again while I'm still drawin' breath."

McCoy snorted. "Yeah, 'cross-training program' my ass. Half my trainees spend their time patchin' up the other half." He rolled his eyes. "I bet our esteemed captain just wanted an excuse to spend more time checkin' out the 'heavenly bodies' in Stellar Cartography."

"And ye've no problem with his...explorations?" Scotty sat up a little straighter and gave the doctor a onceover. A fine figure of a man, no doubt, broad shoulders and a package that looked a fair handful. But rumor had it that McCoy was securely stuck in Kirk's pocket, and Scotty had never been known as a poacher. Even if the prize was so very tempting.

McCoy quirked an eyebrow. "Why would it? I know everybody's shots are up-to-date."

Scotty frowned and shifted on the biobed. "Well, 'tis not exactly a secret that you an' the Captain are---"

He wanted to lick the long line of McCoy's throat as the man threw his head back with a rough bark of laughter.

With his lips still stretched a grin, McCoy turned away to the small counter and passed his hands under the sterilizer. "You can't be serious."

Scotty's expression must have convinced him, because Mccoy lifted an eyebrow higher than Mr. Spock had ever managed. "You are serious." He shook his head and sauntered back to the biobed.

Leaned a hip on it and crossed his arms. "Look, Jim Kirk may be my best friend, but getting involved that way with him would be like trusting a pair of slippers to a Labrador pup."

McCoy shrugged. "He may not mean to chew your feelings up into little shreds, but that's what would happen just the same. The boy doesn't know any better, and I'm not all that sure he wants to."

Scotty tried to ignore the flare of interest that energized his system. It was always better to double-check a circuit was turned off, rather than get a nasty shock the second he started messing about. "So ye're sayin' if the captain decided to express his interest, you'd...?"

"Check him for concussion, then kick him out on his perky little ass." McCoy leaned in closer. The subtle scent of the man's aftershave, set Scotty's nose tingling, along with other areas. "Of course," McCoy drawled, "if a certain somebody else got it into their head to offer me an invitation to say, dinner...I might just find myself willing to give that somebody some very personal attention---after dinner."

Scotty was already planning dessert.

END?


	5. Motivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Pike/Gaila, wheelchair sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaila survived the first Star Trek film.

Gaila paused just inside the doorway. Captain---Admiral Pike's room at the rehab center had a wall of windows looking over a garden in full bloom. Fortunately, it was one-way glass.

She let a slow smile curl her lips as she appraised Pike's silhouette. He was sitting in his wheelchair, staring out at the afternoon. He had finished physical therapy, so he was done with crutches for the day. It made her mission much more...intriguing.

Without looking, she reached back and secured the lock. Then she cleared her throat. "Good afternoon, Admiral."

His shoulders stiffened before his hands---those strong hands---maneuvered the chair around. "What brings you here, Cadet?"

"Lieutenant, sir." Gaila held still under that piercing gaze, ignoring the quiver of anticipation in her core. Then she bounced a little on her toes, letting her smile grow wide with the pleasure of seeing him. "Got tired of hanging around the dorm waiting for the Enterprise to be repaired, so I decided to pop in for a visit."

He lifted one eyebrow. "And you had nothing better to do than come baby-sit a broken old man?"

Gaila sauntered over to him. "I think the doctors should reassess your brain functions, Admiral. You are not broken or old and---" She gripped the arms of the chair and neatly straddled Pike's lap. "What I have in mind is definitely adult entertainment."

She was bare beneath her uniform skirt. Gaila let her thighs spread a little more, settling herself fully against Pike's groin. Her folds dragged deliciously against the cloth and she could feel him growing hard.

Pike's eyes were wide and shocked but dilating nicely as he gasped. His hands wrapped around her waist. "What the hell---?"

She moved her own hands to his shoulders, stroking her thumb against the side of his neck as she leaned in and nipped at his earlobe. "You're no longer my commanding officer," she whispered, rubbing her cheek against the wiry white hairs at his temple.

He pushed her back, but Gaila felt his fingers ghosting along her thighs. "You're a generous woman, Gaila, but I'm not interested in a pity fuck."

Gaila threw her head back in a laugh. "More like you have to take pity on me." She captured his face in her hands, her fingertips tracing the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "You don't know how long I've wanted this..." And she kissed him.

He resisted, at first. Kept his mouth shut against her as she licked at his lips and tightened her grip on his jaw. But then he relaxed, opening to her with a sigh.

Of course she took immediate advantage. Their tongues tangled and danced, sliding together as they learned each other's flavor.

She was startled into a moan by the touch of his hands upon her breasts. She cursed the layers of cloth that kept his warmth from her. She shifted, rubbing her mound against him again.

Gaila was wet, ready. She wanted his cock in her and she wanted it now. She pulled back, held his eyes. "Do you want me, Christopher?"

Her eyes closed in bliss as Pike stroked up her breasts and throat to tangle his fingers in her hair.

"Yes," he answered, and the word held all of the surety of a command.

Gaila lifted up on her knees, fingers scrambling to undo the seal on his pants. She reached through the flap of his underwear, gently working his cock out. Soon it stood warm and solid in her palm. She stroked, sweeping her thumb over the tip as he leaned back and groaned. "Now, woman."

Yes, now. Gaila shifted again, easing his length inside her, moaning herself at the feel of him parting her and sliding into her core. She held still, panting, looked up to find his tender eyes on her.

"You feel amazing, Gaila, so warm," Pike murmured as he cupped her cheek in one hand. "Thank you."

She snickered and tightened around him. "Don't thank me yet." Then she set her hands on her shoulders and began to ride. The wheelchair shifted under them, back and forth, rocking with their movements.

What a ride---her eyes closed. She couldn't stop moaning and gasping as she moved on him, as he filled her. The cloth of his pants were rough on her inner thighs, against her sex as she kept moving, feeling him swell even more. His lips and tongue explored her throat as his hands roamed, pinching her nipples, sliding down over her skirt and underneath.

Gaila gasped as his fingers began teasing her clit, dancing around it. "Damn it." She released one shoulder to give herself some relief, only to find her wrist gripped with surprising strength. She opened her eyes to his smile.

"Let me," Pike said quietly. He stroked, spreading her wetness and she shook as she kept rising and falling, the urge building and building inside until finally it burst over her in a wave of heat.

She bit her lip to hold in the scream as her body jerked, clenched in sharp pulses as the joy rippled over her and through her. Then his arm was around her, his teeth pinching her shoulder even through her uniform as he groaned and the wet heat of his release filled her.

They leaned into each other, panting, as their bodies cooled and hearts quieted. She didn't know who started it, but their mouths found their way to each other, sharing soft kisses. Then Pike lifted her enough to let his cock slip free, then set her back on his thighs. "Thank you," he said again.

He seemed...brighter, better, more alive. Mission accomplished.

Gaila smiled, lifted her hands to his face. "You're welcome." Her grin was wicked. "But next time you have to be on your own two feet---it's your turn to do all the work."

"That's quite an incentive." Pike grinned and ran his fingers down the front of her body, settling his hands at her waist. "I look forward to it."


	6. Oral Arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Spock/McCoy, hand sex

"After I have enumerated how the vagaries of unrestrained emotions are detriments to peaceful cohabitation, Doctor, you will see no reason to waste time and breath continuing this debate." Spock sat forward and laid a padd precisely on the corner of McCoy's desk. "If you would take a moment to review the list I have compiled, you will understand why I do not see the logic of attempting another relationship with a human." Although he and Nyota had parted without excess emotion, the experience had been unsettling enough to preclude him from ever involving himself with another member of his mother's specie.

McCoy's eyes narrowed, the green obscuring to brown at the gesture. "So you're basically gonna list all the ways humans are illogical? That's your strategy?"

"Of course, Doctor." Spock raised an eyebrow. "Although I doubt it will take much effort to win this debate." He refused to admit a frisson of uncertainty at McCoy's sudden smile.

"Then you won't mind if I use a demonstration for my opening argument?" McCoy waited for Spock's nod. Then he leaned forward over the corner of the desk and plucked one of Spock's hands by the wrist.

Spock blinked. Then gasped, as a knuckle was suddenly placed between cool, extremely soft lips. The lips parted further and teeth nipped at the oversensitive skin.

He swallowed as his gaze lifted. McCoy was watching him---eyes fixed upon his own with a startling intensity in their depths. Spock's hand was moved back a few centimeters, and then McCoy's distractingly pink tongue slipped out and swiped the length of his index finger, from tip to knuckle. McCoy moved with admirable slowness and control.

More disconcerting was Spock's own response to that slick, somewhat smooth contact. His entire body flushed, and he could feel blood coursing to his genitals, causing some discomfort within the constriction of his uniform.

Spock swallowed, but his voice was some notes lower than the norm. "Exactly what point are you attempting to prove by this demonstration, Doc---Doctor?" The verbal stumble occurred at the same moment Spock's organ gave an almost violent twitch.

The cause was clear enough: McCoy had caught the tip of Spock's finger in his teeth. Now the doctor grinned around his prize, lips red and full against the line of gleaming white.

McCoy did not reply. He simply began to slide Spock's finger into his mouth, millimeter by millimeter.

Spock's eyes were closed before he even realized it. But he managed to hold back the groan as his finger was laved, sucked, drawn farther and farther into a moist cavern refreshing in its slight coolness.

A sound---distressingly like a whimper---did manage to escape as he drew in a deep breath. His body was heating, more and more blood gathering to engorge his cock.

And still McCoy sucked at Spock's finger, drawing it in and out, occasionally scraping the sensitive length with his teeth.

Spock shifted in his chair, strangely reluctant to free himself even as McCoy drew the entire length into his mouth and pressed his tongue to the sensitive space between Spock's fingers.

McCoy manipulated Spock's hand so the middle finger joined the first in McCoy's mouth to receive similar stimulating treatment. Spock opened his eyes and was surprised to see the glitter in McCoy's eyes had softened to something Spock might label affection, be he suspected was much more.

Precisely 40 seconds later Spock's body stiffened as his release pulsed into his clothing from his untouched cock.

McCoy seemed aware of the event, for he let Spock's fingers slip from his mouth, setting a gentle kiss upon Spock's knuckle before releasing Spock's hand. "That's my opening statement, Mr. Spock." He stood, and the familiar twinkle was back in his eyes. "I'll be awaiting your rebuttal in my quarters." He was gone without another word.

Spock allowed himself some time to contemplate the best way to present the thrust of his own argument. He wanted to be certain McCoy got the point.


	7. Unexpected Attentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scotty/McCoy, shirtless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> McCoy's portrayer (Karl Urban) is known in some quarters for his lovely eyes and often-erect nipples.

Scotty wasn't a breast man---he was a chest man. Aye, he had an eye for the lovely curves of the lasses as well, but there was nothin' in the galaxy to match a man's thrusts, or the feelin' of all that power and muscle under his hands as he slid home.

And right now he wanted his hands on Doctor McCoy. Scotty's fingers tingled as he watched the muscles in the doc's naked back and arms shift as the man lifted another crate to haul to the other side of the hangar.

It was just bad luck that the doc's tops had gotten doused with some synthfuel when a container fell and burst. And good luck that Scotty'd pulled duty planetside at just the right time to get a free show.

He licked his lips as McCoy turned around and walked over for another crate. Now there was a chest. Broad and muscled and with the perkiest nipples Scotty'd ever laid eyes on. It was like McCoy was walkin' around with a top-half hard-on all day long. The nubs were dark pink and perfect and Scotty wanted them flushed red and McCoy writhing under him while Scotty demonstrated just how sensitive those man bits could be.

Didn't hurt that the rest of the package was top-flight as well. Scotty looked McCoy up and down again as the man bent to grab another crate, the black uniform pants snug around an ass Scotty wanted to do depraved things to.

But first that chest needed some attention---and decoration, if Scotty could arrange it. "Hey Doc," he called.

***

"What the hell---Scotty!" McCoy pulled at the cuffs but it did no good. His wrists were still on either side of his head, tied to the lattice in Scotty's bedroom.

This was not what he had in mind when he'd accepted an invitation to dinner in Scotty's quarters. He should have known something was up when Scotty'd spilled iced coffee down his shirt. The engineer had a bunch of quirky tics, but clumsiness was not one of them.

But McCoy'd been having a good time---he always did with Scotty. It was always nice to have an actual conversation with someone who wasn't all smirks and snide remarks (Jim) or "logical" pronouncements and almost-frowns (Spock). So like a sap he'd used Scotty's bathroom to take off his shirt and clean up.

And got jumped the second he came out. He scowled and rattled the cuffs again. "I don't put out on the first date."

***

"Easy, Doc, don't get yer knickers in a twist." Scotty rubbed his hands together as he contemplated McCoy's chest. First, he needed to clear his canvas. He picked up the laser shaver he'd swiped from Sickbay when Chapel wasn't looking.

McCoy's eyes got wide, showing more white than hazel-green. He cringed back against the lattice. "What d'you think you're gonna be doin' with that, Scotty?"

"Now just hold still," Scotty crooned as he switched on the device. He pressed his free hand to McCoy's chest to hold his captive still. McCoy's heart was beating hard under his palm, and Scotty rubbed a soothing pattern into the skin. He swept the laser over McCoy's torso, dissolving every hair.

When he was done he stepped back. Aye, McCoy was quite a prize. And now those perfect nips stood proud and pert against fuckin' edible smooth, bare skin.

Scotty was ready for the fun to start.

***

McCoy blinked and looked down at his own chest. His freshly shaved chest. "Uh, Are we done here?"

Scotty didn't reply. Instead McCoy was forced to watch as the man pulled a rather ornate box forward, opening it and rifling around its contents.

"Gotcha!" Scotty said as he snatched something out. A slim chain of some kind.

McCoy did *not* like Scotty's grin. Or the gleam in Scotty's eyes that reminded McCoy too much of Jim when Jim wanted to drag McCoy out to a shitty bar somewhere. He tugged at the cuffs and pressed back against the partition---that damn pattern was going to be permanently etched into his back---but there was no escape.

He gasped as Scotty bent and took one of McCoy's nipples into his mouth. McCoy shuddered, arching into the wet, warm lap of Scotty's tongue. He groaned as Scotty started using teeth.

It had been a *long* time since McCoy's body enjoyed that kind of attention. When Scotty drifted over to suck at the other one, McCoy tried to pull his thoughts back from his chest---and his cock. "I---You---*Fuck*, Scotty."

***

"Nay, nay, Doc---you don' put out on the first date." Scotty grinned, enjoying the flush on the McCoy's face. He leaned away a moment to snag his drink, fishing out an ice cube.

He laughed as McCoy's eyes widened. Scotty slowly ran the tip of the cube around the aureole of McCoy's left nipple. The skin contracted and the nub drew even more erect---something Scotty hadn't thought possible. He darted in and sucked off the sheen of liquid.

The clamp went on in half a sec. The other nip enjoyed the same fate, then Scotty leaned up to survey his handiwork. McCoy's chest was gleaming with a light coating of sweat, his nipples red and taut between the silver teeth of the nipple clamps. The chain connecting them swung gently.

Scotty gave it a little tug.

***

"Oh..." McCoy was sure he was moaning like a porn star. He couldn't help it. Scotty was playing with the damn chain, tugging and twisting it. Every pull at the clamps sent an electric jolt straight to McCoy's cock.

The next thing McCoy knew, he had a mouth full of tongue that wasn't his. Scotty's weight was full on him, pressing him back into the lattice. McCoy started kissing back, so turned on by this point he was willing to save his complaining---and revenge---for later.

Right now he thrust his hips against Scotty's, grinding their hard-ons together. Scotty was a lot more solid than McCoy had suspected---the bastard was wiry but *strong*. The drag of Scotty's tunic against his bare chest pulled at the chain and scraped against his trapped nipples. How the fuck did Scotty know it would feel so damn good?

McCoy twisted and bucked, ignoring the soothing sounds echoing down his throat from Scotty's. He pulled his head back, breaking the kiss. Gasped as Scotty's teeth sank into his collarbone. He glared down at the top of Scotty's head, pushed his hips forward again. "Fuckin' *finish* this."

***

Scotty grinned, sucked a chain of bites across McCoy's chest while listening to McCoy growl. What a man. He thanked his luck he'd been planetside at just the right moment today. What boring time he'd have had otherwise, with just an engineering journal and a wee dram of scotch to round out the evening.

He leaned back, palming McCoy's sides. Felt the muscles bunch as McCoy twisted in his grip. Scotty spread his legs and trapped McCoy's between them. He wanted to rip the trousers off, get his hands on the cock he could feel surging toward his own.

But McCoy didn't put out on the first date. And Scotty definitely wanted a second one. So...

Scotty stared into McCoy's eyes, dark and dilated in a flushed face. Hair sweat-damp and falling over his forehead. Nipples red and so hot as Scotty let his fingertips drift over the imprisoned tips. Scotty braced himself, then with a quick jerk pulled both clamps free.

McCoy howled as Scotty dropped the chain. Scotty dove in. Pinched one nipple, bit the other. Held McCoy pressed against the lattice as the man bucked and shuddered underneath him.

He leaned back as McCoy collapsed into the cuffs. Scotty pushed his fingers through McCoy's hair, crooning to him as he settled the strands back in place. Felt McCoy straightening again as Scotty stroked a hand along his jaw and down his throat. He couldn't read the expression on McCoy's face. It was a mix of sated and...something.

Scotty reached up and popped the cuffs. He spread his hands, hoping his straining cock and jangling nerves weren't screamin' how damn much he wanted this. "Your turn, Doc."

***

McCoy's eyes narrowed as he contemplated Scotty. He owed the man for a pair of stinging nipples and a set of damp underwear.

But he also had Scotty to thank for the best orgasm McCoy'd had since long before the divorce.

Decision made, McCoy sauntered forward, pushing at Scotty's chest until the other man plonked down on the table. McCoy took a seat beside him and wrapped an arm around Scotty's shoulders. The other hand he let drift down to stroke the inside of Scotty's thigh.

"Well now," McCoy drawled, "I'm thinkin' there's a lot I'd like to do to you right now, Mr. Scott."

He leaned in closer, nuzzling at Scotty's temple, letting his voice drop into a growl. "I'd like to strip you naked and spread you out on this table. Lick you from head to toe..." He let the tip of his tongue make just a tiny swipe at the edge of Scotty's hairline, felt Scotty's whole body shiver in response.

"Then, Scotty, I'd turn you over and run my teeth down your spine to your fine ass." McCoy smiled at Scotty's moan, let his fingers stroke oh-so-lightly up the line from Scotty's thigh to hip. "Of course I'd take a bite---just a little taste. Then I'd use my tongue to open you up, get you ready for my cock. Hold you down and ride you for miles."

McCoy felt Scotty's hips pulse a few times as Scotty's body tensed with a whine. Then Scotty sagged against him. 

"Yep, that's what I'd like to do, Scotty." He grinned as he let his fingers ghost over the front of Scotty's trousers, against the dampness and suddenly smaller bulge that marked Scotty's release. "But I don't put out on the first date."

Scotty gave McCoy a sideways glance. "Well, Doc, how about the second date?"

END


	8. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Spock & McCoy, lost in the wilderness

Spock came awake with a start that quickly turned into a wince. His automatic glance at his right side to determine the cause of the discomfort made him blink. His science-blue uniform tunic was tied around his torso by the sleeves, below the waist but above the hip. It held a rather bizarre...lump...to what he surmised to be a wound. The lump was somewhat damp and appeared to be composed of moss and leaves.

He could recall arriving with a landing party for scheduled negotiations. The talks, unfortunately, had been invaded by a rival faction. The visiting Enterprise officers were apparently viewed as potential hostages to be used in an attempt to overthrow the current government.

After determining communications (and thus beamup) had been blocked, Spock had ordered his people to defend themselves, find cover, and contact the ship. A sharp pain and blackness had followed.

Spock quickly scanned his surroundings to determine his current status. Faint light from a shrub-covered opening revealed a cave carved from gray, iridescent rock. A trickle of water could be heard somewhere nearby, and the lingering scent of smoke rose from a firepit that showed only embers remaining.

"So you're finally up."

The fact that Doctor McCoy was able to approach without Spock's awareness spoke to the gravity of Spock's condition. He pulled himself to sitting with due care to his wound. "That much should be obvious, Doctor."

***

McCoy snorted. "Whatever." He pointed a tricorder---a standard one, not medical issue, Spock noted---and gave it his full attention for several moments.

Spock would never admit to impatience, but..."Doctor, I would appreciate a report on the situation."

The doctor grunted and closed the tricorder. "Well, the 'negotiations' went to hell when the natives decided to re-enact the Battle of Vicksburg in the conference room."

McCoy shifted, leaning a shoulder against the wall. "You took a bullet from the rebels and a heavy stun from the guards, so you were pretty much down for the count."

He chuckled. "Lucky you weren't standin' next to Chekov. Kid would've ended up squashed like a bug." McCoy shrugged. "We scattered---paired up and skedaddled."

Spock frowned. "And how did we end up here? Were we captured?"

McCoy gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Hell, no. Knocked down a guard and got hold of a communicator and a tricorder---told you I shoulda been allowed to keep my kit with me. Hauled your unconscious ass out of town and up here to get away from the scanning equipment those fuckers use."

He scratched at his jaw. "Seems to block our comms as well, though. So I just patched you up and sat down to wait. Figured you'd be able to do your techie thing and get us back to the ship."

Spock nodded. "That was remarkably concise, Doctor, thank you." He quickly evaluated his companion. "Are you uninjured?"

McCoy shrugged again. "Got winged in the arm on the way out, but it's just a scratch. The plants around here have got antibiotic properties that work well for humans and human-Vulcan hybrids."

He pointed a thumb toward the sound of water. "You should get something to drink. I got the blood stopped as soon as I could, but you lost at least a pint."

Spock simply nodded again and rose. He would require a few moments to evaluate the situation.

***

Despite his best efforts, Spock was forced to conclude that he could not reconfigure the communicator to overcome the dampening effects of the cavern.

Unfortunately, they were also unable to leave the cavern to try to find an area not blocked by their pursuers or the environment. Scattered parties wearing government uniforms or the more eclectic garb of the rebels moved about in the valley below their cave.

It was clear Spock would be forced to endure the doctor's company for some time.

The doctor settled beside him with a grunt. "There aren't even grubs in here. Looks like we'll be waitin' 'til we're back on Enterprise for our next meal."

Spock's brows rose. "I was not aware you were versed in edible native fauna, Doctor."

McCoy huffed and gave him a half-hearted glare. "I *did* pass the survival course at the Academy, Spock. I'm not a complete babe in the woods."

The doctor's tone seemed more exasperated than annoyed. Spock acknowledged the reminder with a nod. "My apologies, Doctor. Your efforts thus far have been more than sufficient."

McCoy's right eyebrow went up, but then the man leaned back against the cavern wall with a chuckle. "They damn well better be. Nyota'll have my hide if anything happens to you."

The reminder of his lover caused Spock to look away. Discomfort was an emotion he could not deny. "I fear I must soon end my...liaison...with Lieutenant Uhura."

***

"Why, Spock?"

McCoy's soft question startled Spock. In truth, he expected an angry outburst from the ever-emotional doctor. He contemplated ignoring the query, or reminding McCoy that this was most assuredly not his business.

But the answer found its way to his lips before he could prevent it. "My father has chosen a bondmate for me."

The scrape of pebbles on stone sounded as McCoy twisted to look at him. "Can he do that? I mean, can he make you go through with it?"

Spock's side twinged as he found his spine straightening without his conscious volition. "It is the Vulcan Way."

He glanced down at his hands, noted the dust coating them. "My original bondmate died with the destruction of Vulcan. It was his duty to determine a suitable replacement."

A sigh was barely suppressed. "It is his wish that I settle on the colony and make my...contributions to the survival of our race."

"And what about Nyota?" McCoy asked, brow furrowing.

Again, the doctor's demeanor was uncharacteristically restrained. Spock could clearly discern McCoy's concern. He suspected it was not only for Uhura. "I do not know."

He wanted to shift on the hard stone, but did not. "I do not wish to disappoint him, but..." Spock could feel his jaw tighten in what his mother would have called stubbornness. "But I will not give Nyota up."

Honesty forced Spock to admit surprise at his own revelation. He had not known his own decision until the words passed his lips. 

A low whistle sounded from McCoy. "Sounds like you're in for it, then."

The doctor pursed his lips a moment, looking away. "Look, Spock," McCoy began, "I don't know what good it'll do, but I'll back you, you know, if you need somebody on your side."

Spock tilted his head. "I do not know what assistance you can provide in the matter, but...thank you."

"Sure." He sighed, scrubbed a hand through matted hair. "I don't envy you your battles, Spock. But in a way, you're lucky."

When he turned and met Spock's eyes, his expression was something Spock could not quite decipher. McCoy said, "You have a father to argue with, and a woman who's worth the argument."

He shrugged. "I mean, you've lost a lot, but you still have people who really care about you."

Spock considered what he knew of McCoy's file. Parents and grandparents deceased, no siblings. A marriage that did not result in offspring and ended in divorce. "You are a vital member of the crew, Doctor. I'm sure the captain values your presence highly."

"I know, but it's not the same." McCoy looked away again. He had the air of a man looking into the past. "Not nearly the same."

Spock was forced to agree, though silently.

***

Spock contemplated the valley and the figures still moving within it. He calculated the data gleaned from his observations.

After a moment he turned and strode back into the main part of the cavern. "I believe we shall be able to use the concealment of darkness to leave the cave and move to a location where communications and transport can be restored."

McCoy looked up from where he sprawled in the dirt. "'Bout time. I'm starving."

He stood up and stretched. "You've got smug all over you. What's up?"

His eyes narrowed. "Your overdeveloped brain's gone and figured something out, hasn't it?"

"While that is an incorrect assessment of my mental capacities, Doctor, you are correct." Spock nearly smiled. "The rebels and the government are working together---their search patterns are coordinated."

"Why those conniving bastards," McCoy muttered as he moved to peer through the shrubs. "For what? Ransom?"

"Probably. It is well known that their technological capabilities are yet below Federation standard." Spock stepped to the doctor's side, glanced at the darkened sky.

"Shall we?" He pushed aside a portion of the shrubs, gesturing the doctor before him.

When McCoy was closest, Spock reached out, touched one broad shoulder for a moment before dropping his hand. "Thank you, Doctor."

One side of McCoy's mouth lifted. "Anytime, Spock, anytime."

They were forced to scramble several meters down the steep slope until they reached an area clear of the dampening effect of the stone.

The communicator crackled to life. Uhura's voice soothed Spock in a way he could never describe. "Enterprise to away team, come in."

"Spock here, with the doctor." With a mental note to meditate on all he had learned on this mission, Spock ordered an immediate beamup.

THE END


	9. Que Sera, Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Kirk cheats on McCoy, McCoy moves on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marlena Moreau was in the TOS episode "Mirror, Mirror." She was with Kirk in the Mirror!Verse because the only way to advance was to be Captain's Woman. Without that necessity here, she seems like a good match for McCoy.

Jim cracked his neck as he strolled down the corridor to his quarters. He was still riding the buzz of good sex---not great, mind you, but a solid 6 on the Rock-Kirk’s-World scale. Definitely a better pick-me-up than the quick beer he’d gone into the bar for.

He was still batting around the idea of telling Bones about his little planetside pickup. Sure, “No fucking around” was just understood---back when they got together. But that was months ago and things had cooled down a bit in the bedroom. And it wasn’t like Bones’d been willing to take the night off for a little R&R. Besides, the chick was *purple*. With *glowing* eyes. How could he not hit that?

But either way he’d better shower first. He’d swear Bones was part bloodhound sometimes. Jim was whistling under his breath as he punched his code and went in.

Bones was already there. And Jim was sure that some way, somehow, Bones already *knew*.

At least, that was the only thing Jim could figure, what with the way Bones was pulling stuff out of the dresser drawer he’d claimed and loading the items into an overnight bag.

Jim’s first reaction was a surge of pure kick-in-the-gut panic. But then his brow crinkled. He took a breath and knocked it down a notch. Bones was *calmly* bundling up socks and underwear and packing them away. Maybe Bones didn’t know. ’Cause Jim didn’t think if Bones did know he’d be, well, so *calm*. “What’s up, Bones?”

Bones just lifted an eyebrow. The eyebrow that said, “You do remember that the ‘Jim Kirk is a complete idiot’ thing is supposed to be an act, right?” Stupid mouthy eyebrow.

Jim took a breath and said, “You know.” Fuck. Jim shook his head as his gut jumped again. “How the fuck do you *know*?”

Bones brought the eyebrow down. “Is that really what you want to talk about, Jim?” Still calm. Still my-boyfriend’s-been-crossed-with-a-Vulcan-freaky-calm.

“Uh...” Jim rubbed at his forehead, super aware of how he still smelled like sex and purple alien chick. “Uh, Bones---”

“Look, Jim, let’s just...not do this.” Bones shrugged, ran a hand through his hair. “I really don’t need the post-mortem, y’know? It just...we just didn’t work out.”

Jim was in Bones’ face and his hands were digging into Bones’ arms before Jim even noticed he was moving. “What the *fuck*, Bones? You’re dumping me? Just like that?” At the moment he didn’t give a rat’s ass about right or wrong or whether maybe he shouldn’t be surprised because *shit*. Bones was breaking up with him.

That was not supposed to happen. Ever. Because they’d been Jim and Bones Best Friends for years now and JimandBonesJoinedattheHip for months. Bones was supposed to be It.

And how could Bones not know that he was It and that a quick fuck was nothing compared to being It and fuck how to fix this he had to fix this---“It was just sex, Bones, I swear. It didn’t *mean* anything.”

***

McCoy laughed. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help how sharp it sounded. “And that’s supposed to make everything OK? That it didn’t mean anything to you?” McCoy shook off Jim’s hands, turned back to the drawer. “It damn well meant something to *me*.”

He shook his head and stared at the only thing left, a pair of track pants for sleeping in. If he were honest with himself---and he always tried to be, since the day his life had been knocked sideways to summer by the padd with his divorce notice on it---he wasn’t angry at Jim. Not much.

McCoy wasn’t even angry at *himself*. He did feel like a bit of a fool. For letting himself fall for Jim’s big blue eyes and promises that came like Jim’s smiles, a little too easy. But McCoy had let himself fall. Trusting those promises and the sincerity in Jim’s eyes while they were made.

But now McCoy had landed, with not as big a jolt as there should have been and with the smallest twinge of relief. And his own dose of guilt---Jim was at fault for forcing the end, but McCoy knew he was partly responsible for letting the relationship start in the first place.

He could’ve said no. Should’ve said no. Should’ve stayed just friends, he could see that now. But they still had to deal with the fallout.

McCoy hoped he could salvage something more with Jim than he’d been able to keep with Jocelyn. Because he’d been Jim’s friend first---Jim’s only friend for longer than most people would guess. And however McCoy felt right now, he knew Jim still needed all the friends he could get.

So McCoy didn’t react when Jim spun him around and shook him, eyes wild and practically shouting, “Fuck, Bones, you can’t just end it like that.”

Jim flung away and started to pace. “It was a stupid thing to do---OK, I fucked up, I admit it---but it was just sex. A quick fuck.”

But as McCoy stayed quiet, he could see the panic in Jim’s eyes start to fade. Jim’s expression turned mulish as he turned and paced and turned again, muttering, “I don’t see why it’s such a big fucking deal.”

McCoy gritted his teeth and kept his temper. Had to admit that maybe yeah, that stung. “Y’see, that just makes it worse.”

He took a breath, reminding himself that Jim was young. Jim didn’t know better---no, that wasn’t completely fair. Jim knew *different*. Jim didn’t think like McCoy, didn’t see things the same.

That was why McCoy was certain down to his soul that it was better to break clean now. Before McCoy’s anger turned bitter and they both had a hell of a lot more to regret.

McCoy pulled the track pants out, twisted them in his hands. He sighed, his anger cooling down to ash. “You really don’t get it, do you? You said it yourself: The sex didn’t mean anything.”

He met Jim’s eyes as Jim stopped. McCoy shrugged and said, “But it really meant a lot---it meant more to you than I do.”

McCoy could see Jim’s mouth open to protest but McCoy just overrode him. “Let’s face it, Jim: You did what you wanted. Knowing how I’d feel about it---knowing what *I* wanted.”

He tossed the pants into the bag. “Truth is, sticking your cock in some purple girl for a few hours was more important to you than coming home to me was...than all our time together was.”

***

Jim didn’t breathe for a few seconds. FuckshitDAMN. That was how Bones knew. “You saw me.”

Bones nodded. “Knocked off early, thought I’d join you for that beer.” His mouth lifted on one side, but no way could Jim call that a grin. “I saw you check her out, saw you make your move...saw you leave together.”

“So why the hell didn’t you do something about it?” Jim could feel his face getting red-angry-hot. “Why the *fuck* didn’t you do anything to stop me?” How fucked up was *Bones* that he would just---that he would just *stand* there and---

“I didn’t want to---you made your choice, and I made mine.” Bones’ face screwed up like it did when Jim’d show up at Bones’ door at 3am with a black eye and a hangover, back in Academy days. “I watched you---I could see how much you wanted her, how much you wanted to go with her.”

Jim thought Bones might really blast him then.

But instead Bones seemed to just...go all quiet and certain like he did when he was in surgery, when Bones just *knew* which tool to pick up and how to cut and push and close things up again. “You didn’t hesitate, Jim, not for one damn second...and you lit up with that shit-eating grin of yours when you were sure you’d landed her.” He smiled then, just a little but it was sad and it was real. “Right then I knew it was over.”

The bag scrunched in Bones’ grip as he reached for it, shook his head. “I get it, Jim: You see somebody young, sexy, exotic, and you want a taste. Just a little tumble on the side, no big deal.”

At some point the clenching in Jim’s gut had smoothed out. Smooth and calm.

Bones slung the bag over his shoulder. “But to me, it is a big deal. And I need to be with somebody who feels the same way---because that’s what’s right for them, too.”

He snorted. “I don’t wanna spend a lifetime feeling guilty because I want *you* to feel guilty, Jim. It sure ain’t worth it.”

Jim blinked, felt himself nod. And he meant it. Maybe he could sweet-talk Bones into trying again, maybe even talk Bones around to letting Jim off the leash every once in a while without setting off all the angst.

But that really *would* make Jim feel guilty. Because part of him had known how this was gonna go down the moment he’d wrapped his arm around that purple chick’s waist and let himself be dragged off to her bed. Maybe part of him had been counting on it.

Because now that they’d made the break and he was breathing it, living it, he couldn’t help thinking that more than anything he felt *free*. And *that* didn’t seem as seriously fucked up as it should.

But when Bones slipped past Jim reached out and grabbed Bones’ arm. Pressed his forehead to Bones’ neck. Smelled Bones, clean and spicy. Not like sex. Not at all. “We’re gonna be OK, Bones, right?”

Jim didn’t breathe until he felt Bones’ hand on his collar, his shirt pulled up into Bones’ fist as Bones’ gruff voice sounded in his ear. “Sure, kid.”

When Jim pulled back Bones let him go. Jim rustled up a grin. “See ya bright and early.”

Bones just cuffed him with the bag on the way out.

***

McCoy kept his regular schedule---saw no reason not to. Jim and he usually crossed paths a few times over the course of the day, and they were still friends, after all.

Except that Jim's schedule suddenly changed. Their mealtimes no longer matched, their shift times didn't overlap quite as often.

But Jim was still his cheerfully annoying self whenever McCoy wandered up to the bridge or they did meet up in the Enterprise corridors. So McCoy figured it was probably more Jim announcing that James T. Kirk was back on the market than a fit of brooding or sulking or whatever starship captains did when things didn't go their way.

Mcoy had to admit, though, that the first time he walked into the mess hall to find his usual table mate was missing came as a shock. Felt like every eye in the place was fixed on him getting his scrambled eggs and grits.

It was Chekov who'd saved his bacon. The whelp had waved him over with a babble of something incomprehensible at a distance. Sulu'd just given his companion a look and shrugged an OK when McCoy'd lifted an eyebrow.

McCoy wasn't sure there was anything between the two, but he could've told them he was as safe as sitting with their granny at the summer picnic. He wasn't in the market or on the market himself, just yet.

But if there was one thing a Southerner was bred and born to know, it was the art of conversation. So McCoy ate his breakfast and chatted about botany and the astronomic anomalies they were passing.

He ate lunch with Scotty and Keenser and learned about Delta Vega, and that the two had better comic timing than most acts playing in New Vegas.

Dinner brought a lively debate with Spock on logic versus intuition in command decisions, with Uhura smirking and putting her two credits in on whichever side suited her fancy at the moment. McCoy learned that she and Spock got the same gleam in their eyes when tussling over a meaty topic, no matter Spock was a vegetarian.

Midnight snack was him and the med staff, collapsing over Irish coffee and ice cream after a Starfleet-issued demand to hand-check all of the inventory in Sick Bay, plus all the storage rooms *and* the labs. Somebody on Earth must've gotten a bug up their rear about making sure all the goddamn tongue depressors and hyposprays on the ship were accounted for.

As the days passed, McCoy expanded his circle of dining companions, getting to know most everybody on the ship. The eyes eventually went back to whatever they usually looked at.

Except a pair or two, but McCoy didn't mind them so much. 

***

Jim wanted to pace. What he *did*, was sprawl in the captain's chair and shrug at the eggplant-colored face smirking at him from the viewscreen.

He hated eggplant. And smirks, if they weren't on his own face.

Or Bones' face. Bones wasn't smirking now. He and Spock were just vague blue-topped shapes slumped in the background.

They'd been prisoners for three days. *Three days*. Three days since Jim's personal gravity well had been snatched, along with a first officer who'd become a friend.

And Jim couldn't do one damn thing. It was up to Scotty and Chekov and the engineering and science folks. They'd been working non-stop to pierce the aliens' cloak and get their people back.

All he could do was buy time...and keep his mouth shut. Eggplant-guy had already demonstrated on Spock and McCoy how much he did *not* like Jim's snark.

He took a breath, but then his jaw dropped as Bones and Spock disappeared.

Jim gave the order to get the hell out of orbit, then sped to the transporter room. Bones was back, Bones was back and all would soon be right in Jim's world. He couldn't lose Bones. Lose one of the few people who didn't fall for Jim's bullshit but backed him anyway.

He couldn't lose Bones. Wouldn't.

He met them in the corridor. Scotty had Bones' arm over his own shoulder, while Chekov and a tech whose name Jim couldn't remember had Spock.

Jim darted to Bones' other side just as Uhura reached Spock. She looked as worried as Jim felt---this had been too close. He swallowed and looked at Bones. "How are you?"

"We're fine---nothin' a few days' rest and some decent grub won't cure." Bones was healthy enough to give Spock a warning glare. "But that's for M'Benga to say---he'll check us both out."

Jim jerked his head at Scotty, who nodded and left. Jim pulled at Bones so they lagged behind. He clasped Bones' face between his hands, pressed his lips to Bones'---

And found himself being pushed back with Bones' bewildered expression deepening the lines of exhaustion. "What the hell?"

"Bones---we almost lost you." Jim moved forward again, found himself stopped by hands on his biceps. "Bones, I've had three days---three days thinking I'd *lost* you, and I can't, I can't."

He took a breath. "I'll do it. What you want---exclusive, whatever. Just...I *need* you Bones."

Bones stepped back, shaking his head. "Jim, I---look, you've probably been running on adrenaline since we got grabbed, you're not thinkin' straight---"

"I know what I want," Jim said with a frown. What the hell? Didn't Bones know that Jim was caving? Giving Bones something nobody else'd ever gotten?

Bones lifted his hand, scrubbed through his hair. The eyes he turned to Jim had dark circles underneath. "Look, Jim, you almost lost us. I get it...but you gotta give yourself a couple days, get some sleep. Come down off this and get it together."

One corner of Bones' mouth lifted. "Trust me, I know what buttons get pushed when you go into crisis mode."

Jim's jaw tightened as he crossed his arms. "I'm not gonna change my mind on this."

Bones looked at him then, really *looked* at him. Jim's gut gave a twist as Bones said, "If you really do feel that way, then...I'm sorry, Jim." He sighed. "It's not happening."

"Fuck, Bones." That's all Jim could think to say as he slumped against the wall. "There's somebody else, isn't there?" Didn't take long, did it? And sure, Jim'd been in a few other beds since their breakup, but he wasn't hearts-and-flowers-and-forever-Leonard-fucking-Bones-fucking-McCoy.

"No, there isn't," Bones growled. Then he looked at Jim again. Bones seemed to slump a little himself as he reached to put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Jim, when we got together it was a bad idea, and it's not a better one now. We just...don't fit that way. I'm your friend---I'll always be your friend, I'm not goin' anywhere---but..."

He squeezed, once. "I'm sorry, Jim." Then he dropped his hand and turned to walk toward Sick Bay.

Jim just stared. Relief---why was it such a fucking *relief*? Again? Still? He'd been so sure...

He pushed himself off the wall. Ran his hands through his hair. Bones was right about one thing: He needed to sleep.

Maybe after some shuteye the universe would make sense again.

***

McCoy took a sip of single-malt scotch, swallowed with a sigh. It wasn't bourbon, but it went down smooth.

His eyes drifted around the pub that had been brought timber by timber from Earth to Starbase 17. Scotty and Chekov were playing darts. Other members of the Enterprise crew chatted at the bar or in booths like his. Spock and Uhura were at one of the billiards tables, watching as Jim and his partner---a cute little blonde yeoman---discussed their options.

McCoy mentally shrugged. Before---before everything, there'd been an even chance Jim would team up with him. When they'd been together, it was a sure bet. Now...well, things were getting better.

For two weeks Jim'd glared at him, half confusion and half some kind of mish-mash of anger and hurt. McCoy hadn't liked it, but he'd lived with it. Now they were finally getting back to something like normal.

But McCoy figured he'd still be Jim's second pick for a while.

He was OK with that. Because he had a damn fine bunch of friends on the ship.

"Mind if I join you?" The voice held the sultry shimmer of the bayou. When McCoy glanced up at Marlena, he had to admit it perfectly matched the rest of her.

His lips stretched into a grin. "Be my guest."

He and the feisty brunette science officer had tussled a few times---verbally, of course---during his strolls through the labs to "keep his hand in." He knew Spock valued her smarts, but McCoy equally enjoyed her savvy. He also suspected her cynical outlook was like his own, a thick hide built from some serious scar tissue.

He glanced at her drink. His brows rose. "Now just how in the hell did you get that bartender to whip you up a sloe-gin fizz?"

"I have my ways." She smiled as her lashes dipped, then rose to reveal bold brown eyes.

McCoy found himself straightening. "So what's on your mind?"

She set her drink aside and folded her arms along the table. "You know, half the ship was sure you and Kirk were going to tumble back into bed together after you and Spock got snatched."

He tilted his head. "But you weren't one of them."

"True." She glanced toward Jim, then back. "That night Kirk stepped out on you...I watched you watch him."

She shrugged. "You didn't look like a man who was planning to stake a claim."

"What did I look like?" McCoy pushed the scotch away and leaned in.

Marlena met him halfway. Her voice dropped to a purr. "Someone *I'd* like to stake a claim on---if that someone were interested."

McCoy sank back. He'd half-suspected what Marlena would say, but now that he knew for sure he felt damned uncertain.

He looked at her, beautiful and brilliant and waiting for his reply. "I gotta say this up front: You sure about this?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I've done this go-round twice already, and I am damn tired of catching my lover sneaking around with somebody prettier, sexier---hell, *younger* than I'll ever be."

He shrugged. "Just---I'd rather have you dump me to my face than steppin' out behind my back."

"You really think you're that bad a catch I'd throw you back in?" Marlena ran her gaze over him like the rake of nails down his flanks, making him shiver.

Her lashes dropped to half-mast. "I'd tell you some of the folks who'd jump into your bed at the crook of your finger---if I didn't want to keep you all for myself."

She was suddenly all business, straightening up and sticking out her hand. "Look, I know what it's like to find out your beau is a cheating bastard. So I'll tell you what: The second I feel like kicking your fine ass out the airlock I'll tell it to you straight---if you'll do the same."

McCoy nodded. "Deal." They shook on it, and McCoy found his other hand coming up to wrap around hers and hold on.

Marlena tilted her head toward the pool tables. "Spock and Uhura just finished the smackdown on the captain." She grinned at him. "Let's go whup their uptight asses."

McCoy shook his head and laughed as he stood up. Before he knew it, his arm was wrapped around Marlena's waist.

He left it there.

***

The bride was fucking *gorgeous*.

Jim watched Uhura's logically sedate stroll across the dance floor in Spock's arms. He bet Uhura figured becoming Spock's wife would finally put an end to Jim hitting on her. He smirked; not a chance in hell.

His eyes roamed the ballroom, stopping on Bones and Marlena as the best man and maid of honor stepped out onto the floor. Bones looked damn fine in a tux, and Marlena wasn't too shabby, either. It'd been weird at first to see Spock and Uhura out and about with Bones and Marlena, doing "couple" things. But Jim'd gotten used to it.

Bones and Marlena had been together for a year now, but Jim hadn't been *sure* about them. Even after Marlena had pretty much moved in with Bones.

Nah, it wasn't until 10 months in that Jim knew they were together for the long haul. One day Bones just seemed to *relax*. Like Bones'd finally figured out that Marlena wasn't going anywhere and Bones didn't have to be tensed up all the time waiting for the fuck-over or the break-up.

Jim shifted a little as he watched Bones and Marlena whirl by. Bones was...*softer* now, sorta. The drawl was definitely stronger, and Bones' bedside manner had gone from a surly snap to a kind of teddy-bear-growly grumble. Except when standing up for his patients, of course, or arguing logic with Spock, or ripping Jim a new one for Jim's "latest damn-fool stupid-ass stunt."

Nice to know some things hadn't changed.

He had to wonder how long it'd be before he'd be standing up before Bones and Marlena, pronouncing *them* husband and wife. Jim knew it was only a matter of time: Underneath that cynical-divorcé shell, Bones was too much an old-fashioned romantic for anything else. Things like that mattered to Bones.

And Marlena was just the same way.

Jim thought he'd maybe be OK with it. Marlena (and Bones' other friendships---who knew Dr. Grouchy-is-my-middle-name would turn into Mr. Personality?) never cut in on Bones and Jim's "best friends shoot the shit" sessions that Jim needed less than breathing but way more than sex.

Although sex *was* still high on Jim's list, especially if Sulu and Chekov were serious about that sleepover...

*Anyway*, Jim had to admit that Bones had been right: Bones and him never really fit together as lovers. Bones for certain never smiled like that at Jim those few times they danced together. Or any other time, come to think of it. Before Marlena, Jim had never seen Bones look just plain *happy*.

He grinned and pushed off the wall. Still, that didn't mean he wouldn't cut in on Bones and Marlena and take his sexy ex-lover but best friend forever out for a spin on the dance floor.

Or that he wouldn't drink a glass of bourbon on Bones and Marlena's wedding day. A toast to what would never have been.

THE END


	10. Possibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy told himself that he should have known better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When "Que Sera, Sera" was being posted, someone asked if McCoy could end up with Spock and Uhura. That wasn't possible, but this little scene shows what might have been.

McCoy caught sight of Spock and Uhura entering the room. Shifted farther into the shadows at the end of the bar.

He should have known they would find him. Then again, he hadn't run very far. Just to the lounge on the first floor of the chalet the Enterprise crew had picked for shore leave.

But what else could he have done? He could still taste them, feel them... He shivered with the memories of what they'd shared. Knowing, being known more deeply than he'd ever dreamed. Entwined with them both, sharing minds even more than bodies.

He'd enjoyed it far too much. And knew he had to get out before he forgot that for them it was just a shore leave fling, a way to spice things up in their relationship.

McCoy was bringing his half-full glass of bourbon to his lips when Uhura's fingers, slim and strong, plucked the drink from his hand. He watched her throat arch as she tossed it back and slammed down the glass.

Her lips curled as she leaned in and slipped one thigh over his, an arm wrapping around his waist. Her voice was the low purr that made his skin prickle. "You forgot to say good-bye."

McCoy swallowed, then gasped as Spock's arms wrapped around his waist and Spock's hot lips teased his nape. "That was most inconsiderate of you, Leonard."

He couldn't help the surge of want that ran through him, but damned if he was going to show it. "Didn't see the point. It was...fun." His lips twisted as he stared at his hands as they gripped the edge of the bar. "Just didn't want to wear out my welcome."

Uhura lifted her fingertips to his chin. He was caught by the shimmer of her dark eyes. "Don't you understand?" Her fingertips trailed down his throat, his chest, until her palm rested over his heart. "You'll always be welcome."

Spock's chin came to rest on his shoulder. McCoy couldn't help leaning back into the familiar strength and heat as his eyes drifted shut.

He didn't need the meld to recognize the tenderness in the brush of Spock's cheek against his own. "Be ours," was all Spock said.

McCoy held still. Then he sighed, nodded. Let himself be pulled to his feet and into a threefold embrace that he knew he'd never want to leave. 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcomed with great joy and constructive criticism is treasured as a rare gift.


End file.
